


promise

by thisandthisandthis



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bisexual Elim Garak, Bisexual Julian Bashir, Bottom Julian Bashir, Cardassian Anatomy, Dressing Room Sex, Episode: s01e03 Past Prologue, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Top Elim Garak, Trans Julian Bashir, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26279812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisandthisandthis/pseuds/thisandthisandthis
Summary: garak is a little more forward the day he meets julian.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 8
Kudos: 120





	promise

**Author's Note:**

> an indulgent oneshot in honor of me starting to rewatch ds9 :)
> 
> \- peach ([more fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisandthisandthis/works) // [my tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/ezrisbian))

Julian glanced to the door again, where the Duras sisters had left in a swirl of skirts and a blaze of pride. Then he looked back at Garak, incredulous. He’d never even spoken to a Cardassian before. Not until today, when Garak had simply approached him in the Replimat like it was a normal thing to do, Cardassians fraternizing with Starfleet officers as though they were friends. No, this certainly hadn’t been on his radar. And now, being pulled into some sort of scandalous, illicit trade! It made him feel uneasy.

In the best sort of way, of course.

Garak cocked his head as if waiting for Julian to say something, but his thoughts were moving too fast even for his genetically modified brain to keep up. What could Garak want with him? Was he really a Cardassian spy? Why had he approached Julian of all people? And why did it seem like he was trying to help by giving Julian this information?

“Are you really a spy?” Julian said, trying to read Garak’s impassive smile. “Everyone thinks you are.”

“If that’s true, then I’m not a very good one, am I?”

Julian let out a quiet, bewildered laugh. “I should get to Ops, tell Sisko and Kira about the rendezvous —“ he started, already running through a million possibilities of what might happen, what the Bajoran terrorists would do with the bomb.

Garak cut him off smoothly. “You still have a few hours, Doctor. No need to dash so soon.”

Julian fidgeted, feeling strangely vulnerable under Garak’s sharp, unreadable gaze. “And why should I stay?”

“What did I tell you just earlier about good company?”

“Garak,” Julian fumbled. “I admit I’m not sure why you are taking such an interest in me, out of everyone on the station.”

The Cardassian smiled and reached out to take the suit jacket from where it was still clutched in Julian’s hands. “Do you not know your own charm, my dear Doctor?” he said as their fingers brushed. And then he was turning on his heel to hang the jacket on the other side of the room.

Julian felt his face go hot. He blinked once and tried to get himself together. He usually prided himself on never being at a loss for words. He only got like this when he was around Jadzia —

Oh, fuck. Don’t go there, Julian.

Garak turned and approached him again as he desperately willed the blush to fade from his cheeks. “Are you warm, Doctor?” Garak asked, a small smirk forming on his gray lips, and Julian panicked even more.

“Must be, uh, do you keep it hotter in here, being a... being a Cardassian and all?” He stumbled over his words and mentally cursed himself for sounding like a complete idiot. Then he cursed himself again for caring about what Garak thought of him.

The Cardassian’s smile widened almost imperceptibly. “Oh, no. The environmental controls in my shop are the same as the rest of the station. A bit on the cold side for my tastes, thanks to warm-blooded Starfleet.”

“You’re, er. If you’re cold, then why are you... taking off your vest?”

He only smiled again, and motioned for Julian to follow him back towards the dressing rooms. “Now, since you’re already here, dear Doctor,” he said, “I wonder if you would like to take the opportunity to be fitted for a suit? For real this time.” His dark eyes glimmered. “I am more than happy to take your measurements right now.”

Julian swallowed. “Er. While I appreciate the offer, I’m not exactly in the market for a new...” he trailed off as Garak, apparently entirely ignoring him, stretched a measuring tape across the length of his shoulders. The Cardassian’s fingers ghosted over the fabric of his uniform, and for some reason, Julian shivered.

“I’ll need to take measurements for your whole body, Doctor. Tailoring is a very precise art. Are you comfortable with that?”

Julian imagined Garak’s hands skimming down his arms, cupping his ankles. “Sure. I mean, yes. That’s fine.”

At that, Garak’s expression morphed into something completely unreadable. “For a more accurate measurement, would you please remove this?” he said, voice a bit softer than it had been, as he trailed a finger across the fabric of Julian’s shirt.

“Er,” said Julian. “Okay.” And Garak ushered him into the dressing room, following close behind.

Julian did as Garak had asked. His heart was pounding away in his chest, banging on his ribcage like it was ready to explode. He tossed his shirt into the corner with shaking fingers. As Garak’s gaze moved unabashedly over his bare chest, he got the distinct impression that this was no longer about measurements, and probably never had been.

“Perfect,” the Cardassian purred. “Now the rest, please.”

Julian did as he was told.

Standing there in his boxers, in front of a fully clothed Garak, he felt as though he was floating through space and his tether has been cut. He suddenly was reminded of the fact that he hardly knew this man, this _Cardassian,_ for God’s sake, and probably shouldn’t even have trusted him with his name. Yet here they were. Garak’s eyes roving over his body with an implacable expression, and Julian, completely and utterly out of his depth.

Though he desperately wanted to see where this would lead.

“Turn around,” said Garak, and Julian faced the wall, feeling very exposed and very awkward.

Garak tossed the measuring tape to the ground.

The Cardassian slowly, and surprisingly gently, lifted his hands to skim down Julian’s bare shoulders. “So soft, you humans,” he muttered, as if to himself. “And warm. How do you live such fragile lives?” His fingers danced across Julian’s back and traced his spine downwards. “Almost a delicate thing. You’re strange. It’s beautiful.”

Julian gulped and shuddered under Garak’s touch. He noticed two things, then. The first was that Garak had moved so close that Julian could feel his breath ghosting against the back of his neck.

The second was that Julian was wet. Really fucking wet.

So fuck it. If this was how the day was going to go, who was Julian to deny himself a little fun?

He turned back around to face Garak, and, placing his hands at the base of his neck ridges, crushed their lips together.

Garak made a small noise of surprise before he melted into the kiss, his hands resting firmly on Julian’s skinny hips. His mouth was cool, but not unpleasantly so — kissing him was unlike anything Julian had ever felt. He slipped his tongue into the Cardassian’s eager mouth and stroked his fingers along his neck ridges. At this, Garak pulled him tighter, flush against his body. He broke the kiss, panting for air.

Garak didn’t say anything after that. He didn’t need to.

His lips moved messily down Julian’s soft, exposed neck, sucking shadowy bruises into his brown skin. Julian’s breaths came fast and quick and he clutched at Garak’s clothing. He felt so completely vulnerable, naked in the Cardassian’s arms, but somehow, there was a deep, unquestioned feeling of safety as well.

Garak crowded Julian up against the wall of the dressing room and claimed his mouth again. This kiss was sloppy, uncoordinated. There was a wildness to Garak’s movements. The cold, hard texture of the wall dug into Julian’s back, but he found that he didn’t care. All that seemed to matter was this new firm body pressing into his, the texture of his clothing, the feeling of his ridges under Julian’s hands.

In a burst of confidence, Julian pushed his boxers down and stepped out of them so that he was fully naked. He locked eyes with Garak, who was drinking in the sight of Julian’s long, lean body. A line of dark hair trailed from his navel to his vulva where it curled, thick, above his swollen clit. He lifted one leg and locked it around Garak’s hip in an invitation. The Cardassian kissed his collarbone then moved a hand between them to unbutton his own pants. Julian watched his movements, feeling his arousal pulse between his legs, and dug his nails into the cool skin of Garak’s back.

Garak shoved his pants down his thighs just enough to expose his slick ajan. Julian watched, his body lighting up with desire, as Garak everted and guided his prUt between Julian’s legs. It jutted thick and shining from between his thighs, and his eyes blazed with arousal. His flashing gaze met Julian’s in a question. Julian, already dazed with arousal, nudged his hips forward in an answer.

Garak lined himself up and pushed slowly into his body, relishing the tightness and the pulsing warmth. Julian let out a breathy and frankly quite embarrassing moan as he felt Garak’s prUt enter him, filling him, pressing into him until their hips were flush together and Julian’s face was buried, panting, in the hot, darkening scales of Cardassian’s neck.

Gripping his thighs, Garak positioned Julian so that both of his legs were wrapped around his own waist, and Julian was completely supported against the wall. Then he started to move. All at once in quick, rolling thrusts. Each movement punched a high, desperate moan out of Julian’s throat. The air was filled with the slapping sound of their skin and the obscene wet noise of Garak’s motion. He crushed Julian against the wall, digging his blunt nails into his thighs and pounding into him. Julian was unable to do anything but melt against him and gasp for breath. He relished in the way all of his senses were filled with only _Garak,_ the completely new sensation of his prUt inside of him, the waves of pleasure that burst inside him with every thrust, the rough fabric of Garak’s clothing against his bare skin. Julian clung weakly to Garak’s shoulder with one hand, and with the other, reached between their bodies to rub his clit. He glanced down to where they were joined and gave a breathless moan.

Garak seemed to notice that Julian was close. He sped up his rhythm as Julian rubbed furiously at his clit, gasping in pleasure, and his thighs tensed and flexed around Garak’s waist. He came around Garak’s prUt, a high moan escaping his throat, waves of white-hot pleasure rolling through his body. He sagged against Garak as the Cardassian continued to fuck into him, grinding his hips forward and chasing his own orgasm.

Garak came, spilling inside Julian with a low moan and sucking another bruise into his neck. He stayed there for a moment, steadying his breath. Then he relaxed his grip on Julian’s thighs and slowly pulled out.

As Julian attempted to regain his balance, leaning against the wall, he watched Garak calmly re-fasten his pants. “You didn’t undress,” he said dumbly.

“Perhaps next time,” Garak said with a smile.

Julian’s heart pounded inside his chest. “Next time,” he repeated.

“If you want there to be one.” Garak gathered Julian’s clothing and handed it to him in a gesture that should not have been intimate, but somehow was.

“On one condition,” Julian said, and took the bundle of clothes.

“What’s that?”

“I take you to lunch first.”

Garak’s eyes glimmered. “I’d like that, my dear Doctor.” He seemed to hesitate before placing a hand on Julian’s shoulder and leaning forward to kiss him again, with an uncharacteristic air of something like shyness. Then he smiled, stepped away, and said, “I’ll leave you to dress. You should get back to Ops.”

Julian blinked. “Right.”

He watched Garak leave through the curtain, and leaned against the wall for a few heavy moments. _Okay,_ he thought. _Go to Ops. Do your job._ He let out a long breath.

The words _next time_ echoed through his brain. He pictured Garak on the other side of that curtain, organizing the displays, folding the fabrics with precise fingers. He thought of Garak’s breath against his neck and his hands gripping his thighs. He remembered that smile in the Replimat, when Garak approached him as though it were normal, and maybe it would be.

 _Next time._ Julian grinned and looked at himself in the dressing room mirror, saw the rosy bruises blooming on his neck, the crescent-shaped indents im the skin of his thighs.

Next time, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> terminology credit of course to the [sacred texts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479) of cardassian repro biology lol
> 
> thanks for reading! comments and kudos are always appreciated <3
> 
> em hotep xx
> 
> \- peach ([more fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisandthisandthis/works) // [my tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/ezrisbian))


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